


Cornflowers and Sunflowers

by AspiringSatan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Drarry, Flowers, Happy Ending, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates AU, background romione, soulmates drarry, soulmates flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspiringSatan/pseuds/AspiringSatan
Summary: AU where flowers bloom in places where your soulmate is wounded.Harry lives in a small flat in the centre of London and guess who moves in the flat across the landing? no other than Draco Malfoy and he has no clue how to take care of himself.after the battle, before eight year in Hogwarts.Warnings for self-harm and violenceinspired by a tumblr postI sadly do not own Harry Potter, JKR does, go thank her ;)





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy ^^

 

Harry was running again. It helped with managing his thoughts and nightmares. Not so much his sleeping schedule, but it was better than lying in his bed reflecting or waking up because he was screaming his head off again.

Light was just breaking above London as he run up a bridge, shadows from the lamp posts skipping past his vision. His headphones were threatening to fall off again so he adjusted them over his black mane of hair. He passed a row of closed shops and kept running, sensing that the clear morning will soon become an unfathomably scorching day. All the way he was mouthing lyrics of the song.

– All the other kids with the pumped up kicks  
You'd better run, better run, out run my gun  
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks  
You'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet –

_A month till I can go back to Hogwarts…_

Now it was strictly only the renovation team. One part of him couldn’t wait, the other dreaded the nightmares getting worse. But when had he slept peacefully ever? At Hogwarts at least it didn’t seem like he needed to make a thousand decisions that will permanently determine his future.

His steps were even in the clear vibrant morning as the dusk of the night was whiffed away by a gust of warm wind. Surprisingly this morning he even could see the Sun, usually he only noticed that it had changed from night to morning when other people started to appear. That was also the cue that he should probably start running in the direction of his flat.

It was small, to be honest, Harry wouldn’t have minded if it was bigger, but it had been the first one that was available and didn’t look so much like a drug addicts cave. In addition, the landlord didn’t ask questions and allowed owls or any other animal. Harry didn’t have one, but still.

Hermione had helped with shielding spells and sound-proofing, Ron had practically dragged Harry shopping for furniture, after that it looked almost homey. Third floor, three rooms and an attic, filled with junk that previous owners hadn’t taken with them.

He made a turn and narrowly avoided a girl that was running as well by flattening himself against the wall, she didn’t even notice anything. Running with disillusionment charm was a good idea, he thought, if you didn’t forget that other people will try to walk through you.

Reaching his street he slowed down and started to stretch his arms, letting his heartrate slow and his lungs fill with the  _clean_ air of the city of London. Harry zipped his jacket’s pocket open on his doorstep as he looked at the names of his neighbours.

_Somebody has moved in the flat across from me._

_Somebody called D. Martin._

Harry pushed the key into a key hole and pulled the doors open. As they fell closed behind him he surveyed the stairs, he was alone. He shed the disillusionment and started climbing to his doors. When his feet hit the middle step of the first flight he heard a door banging closed, he looked up. The stairs were empty.

Reaching his floor he saw that the landing was full of boxes. It wasn’t like there were fiveteenish boxes. There were boxes in stacks going to the ceiling. About three metres up, the landing was two by two meters – all filled to the brim by boxes. Barely enough space to open the other flat’s doors, his couldn’t even be seen.

At the first glance he thought the boxes had been sent by post, but then he read the label.

Approved to move by the Auror Department Death Eater section.

Ministry of Magic.

The realisation settled in. He now had a wizard living next to him.

_And an ex-Death Eater at that._

Sighing Harry wondered if he would have to move, if his location would be leaked by whoever D. Martin was. He squeezed past the first stack of boxes that wobbled dangerously, took one more step forward, only then realising that his doors were unreachable. The heaps were neatly stacked all along the wall.

_Cute._

Ripping his headphones off Harry strolled back to the stairs and leaned over the railing listening for other neighbours. Still nobody. The song was now crashing out of the small speakers into the murky stairwell.

– once asked could I spare some change for gas?  
I need to get myself away from this place  
I said yep what a concept  
I could use a little fuel myself  
And we could all use a little change

Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming  
Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running –

With a quick flick of wand he moved the stack of boxes across the landing. After unlocking his flat he entered, leaving the door open. Throwing his keys on the counter, he slanted over the half wall that divided the hallway and kitchen, snatching up the notepad he kept on the worktop. Pushing off his left shoe he spent about thirty seconds looking for the pen, still half on top of the half wall, his feet dangling in the air. After he had found the pen and secured the cap between his teeth, he absentmindedly wrote a couple of words and walked back on to the landing.

Ripping the message out of the notepad he pinned it to one of the boxes in front of the others flat. Feeling done socialising for the day, he walked back into his den. As he was opening his fridge to have a snack before jumping into the shower, he heard the beautiful sound of boxes collapsing. He snickered and almost laughed when three seconds later a single clear word followed.

“ _Bollocks!_ ”

Harry only realised that his guilt was pretty much undeniable, when he registered that he had left his doors open.  _Well, Mr D. Martin shouldn’t have put boxes in my damn way._  Before Harry could spell his doors closed a rumpled paper flew in and landed in his hallway.

He opened it up and read.

Ring my bell if you need help moving :)

Harry

Get lost,

D.M.

[comics sans]  
Ring my bell if you need help moving :)  
Harry

[fancy handwriting]  
Get lost,  
D.M.

Harry winced at his own stupid wording and stepped outside of his flat. The other was dressed in an oversized hoody and dark jeans, a green kerchief tied around his neck but Harry couldn’t see the stranger’s face as his hood was tugged way over it. The man’s hands were lean and pale, his moves equally annoyed and graceful as he pointed his wand to the box that had retched its contents on to the floor.

“I’m just offering,” Harry said, wondering how the man wasn’t boiling in his clothes. “You have a lot of boxes.”

The stranger was bluntly ignoring him.

“Fine. Sorry I asked,” Harry said preparing to close the door behind him. Before he could, the man on the other side of the landing turned his head, meeting Harry’s eyes. Next second Harry’s doors were agape once again as he stared into the silvery eyes of no one other than Draco Malfoy.

The brain under the wild black hair had encountered an obstacle and all it could do was mull one thought over and over.

_Draco Malfoy is moving in opposite me. Draco Malfoy is moving in the flat opposite me. Draco Malfoy is putting his things in the flat that is just a few steps away. Draco Malfoy is mov…_

Malfoy’s face was blank, wand still in his hand.

“Potter.”

Harry’s body betrayed him and with an electricity-like jolt he shut the door, slowly retreating.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Draco’s mouth formed a thin line and held in the desire to flip off the closed door. He made do with violently flinging his boxes into his new  _home_.

It was degrading that the best his contacts could do was this little hole in the ground. The Manor was off limits because ‘Ministry reasons’ and his other heritage could only be accessed when he was 21 or if he went to talk to his mother which he couldn’t.

Punching the light switch he grimly looked over his new living quarters. He almost found himself missing Hogwarts, it at least wasn’t as tiny as a matchbox. But it was full of people, so no, he wasn’t missing the castle after all.

Thoughts about the fact that he would have to go back to the school made him nauseous. Draco slumped on the counter, letting his wand roll out of his hand on to the dented stone. Legs giving out he collapsed, his back to the drawers and eyes uselessly jumping around the room. He could see the other side from here. Bedroom was just a thin wall away and the bathroom on the other side. There was no space, the boxes were suffocating him, his nails dug into his palms and he pushed himself up, grabbing for his wand.

An hour later he had unpacked his things and furniture and he hadn’t burnt the bloody shack down, by his accounts that was a success. He slumped to the bathroom angrily and looked in the mirror.

_Pale._

_Angry._

_Tired._

Just as the day before. His slender fingers grabbed his wand tighter and he bit his lip regarding his hands.

_Potter. Saint Potter. What was he doing here?_

“One the other hand!  _I don’t care!_  I have  _never_  cared! I don’t feel…” he growled at the mirror, pulling off his kerchief and rolling up the left sleeve of the hoodie. “… _anything_.”

“Stupid snake. You  _despicable_  being! Couldn’t you at least make the stupid gang tattoos  _not look_  like stupid gang tattoos?” he snarled at the grim marking. Draco’s wand was in his hand and he pointed it to his forearm. Only thing that kept him from blasting his whole arm off was the fact that he knew the tattoo would just appear on his other arm.

He slammed his hands down on the edges of his sink and banged his head against the mirror, letting tears fall from the corner of his eyes into the sink.

As if being in Azkaban wasn’t bad enough, now he had to endure living in this tiny hell-hole, in the midst of muggles. No wizards would risk getting their hands dirty. Draco understood, he wouldn’t either. If he could, he would abandon himself too.

_Evil._

_Useless._

_Helpless._

Other slanders rung in his ears, echoing from the inside of his skull. This had been a  _great_  start to his first day living alone. Only reason why Draco had moved in this ungodly hour was because he had hoped he would get to do everything and barricade himself inside the flat not encountering anyone. For his efforts he had gotten another image burnt in his eyelids.

_Potter._

Draco had heard somebody ascending and hid in his flat. He had thought it was just some muggle, but when he exited the flat again it was clear that no muggle could move a stack of boxes so quietly, quickly and annoyingly. The note was just asking to be burned along with the scrappy handwriting that Draco’s brain had refused to recognise.

Then the wizard dared to show his face. Draco didn’t look at him, he didn’t want to confirm what his ears were telling him – that that content, familiar voice was indeed his school nemesis. A second before he should have, he had turned, just to steal a glance and that had been a grave mistake. He had seen the precise moment that Potter jumped up to speed, his eyes widening, hand clenching the doorknob, no doubt, wishing it was his wand. Draco already regretted looking, but now it couldn’t be helped, so he tried to be civil, Harry’s surname came out before he could think. It was something he was used to doing.

See Potter – call him ‘Potter’ and then comment on something that’s amiss. Potter answers with something no doubt childish – comment on his friends. Potter leaves – pretend you did a good job.

It was a rhythm, it was easy. Potter wasn’t supposed to look like Draco murdered his whole family and then slam the doors in his face. That. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen. But it had, and now all Draco could see was the winded man staring at him like he was the second coming of Grindelwald.

And all the while his throat was hurting. He had caught some kind of disease while in prison, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, the place was mostly draft, stones and Dementors. Now he was out, but he hardly felt much better. No, scratch that, he did feel better, just the general picture still seemed as depressing and chaotic.

If he could just forget Potter’s eyes…

His hair had been standing up in all directions like a stray lightning bolt had just happened to bolt through it, his jacket been tied around his waist like some kind of joke that Draco couldn’t wrap his mind around as much as he tried. His Quidditch hands had been holding that stupid note that Draco had so ruthlessly thrown into his apartment. He looked like a lion out of a zoo, startled by a dragon on the corner of a street. Dragon that had killed his family. The change of Potter’s pose was what made Draco almost cry then and there.

Despite Potter saving his life, despite Potter speaking up for him at the trial, despite Potter seeing to his mother being pardoned, Potter still hated him. Nothing had changed. Potter was still the Golden boy that couldn’t be touched.

_What is he doing here?_

Draco’s head was spinning. He slurped up some water in his palm and forced his neck to down it, ignoring the pulling of his skin beneath the tattoo.

_You haven’t changed. Why should Potter think that you have? He just thinks you are up to something again. He might be here to kill you if he thinks you have done something bad again._

Draco wasn’t up to much more than lying on the cold floor and reminiscing about his stupid, stupid youth, if anything, he was up to absolutely nothing. He felt tired and angry and…. hungry.

Grunting he stomped into the kitchen regarding the cutlery tartly. A pan, a kettle a box of suspiciously smelling tea. Despite not finding any forks or knifes he found a single dirty spoon.

 _Lovely_.

He dropped the spoon back into the drawer as he realised that, even if he was morally ready to attempt making food, he didn’t have any. That sorted, he took out a book from the bookshelf he had freshly put together with just a couple of swipes of his wand and slumped down on the divan to read in the sharp sunlight that was beaming through the window.

Three pages in he couldn’t lay still any longer, his every muscle tense, Draco got up and grabbed his head in his hands trying to even his breath. Book had fallen to the ground forgotten, Draco’s eyes dug into the floorboards as he scratched his tattoo. He looked at the hateful thing with glassy eyes and dug his fingers into his soft flesh, ripping open the closed wounds. Three slashes down to his elbow and he felt like he could breathe again.

The pale-faced man fell back breathing heavily as blood trickled down his fingers on to the ground and on to the pages of the book he was never going to finish. His eyes were wet and he dully stared at the room thinking nothing until all the blood had dried and his head felt appropriately empty.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Harry was trying to wash off his surprise, he already felt a twinge in his gut because he knew he acted like a dick-head, snapping the doors like that. _Even_ if  _D. Martin_  was actually Draco Malfoy disguised to ruin Harry’s life.

The hot water was somewhat helping his strained legs, but not his head. His brain refused to cooperate and kept replaying Malfoy saying ‘Potter’ again and again and again.

Harry spent twice the amount of time as usual making sure every patch of skin was as clean as possible and even shampooed his hair twice. That only made them _completely_ impossible to tame so he just stood under the hot water preparing himself for an apology.

_Really?_

_Well, Malfoy didn’t do anything. He just said my name. I ought to be the grownup here._

Before Harry could turn off the tap, he noticed an alien feeling on his left arm, sprinkling water drops everywhere, he got hair out of his eyes and looked down.

“GAH!” he said very clearly and grabbed his forearm with his right hand. Struggling he pushed the water off with his hip and hobbled out of the shower into a better lighted area of the compact bathroom. In three neat rows on his forearm a flock of soft cornflowers had bloomed.

Harry knew what this meant. His soulmate was hurt. Every wizard that had turned eighteen and then met his soulmate got the privilege of knowing when they got hurt. He had seen Seamus bloom daisies when Dean busted her ankle, he had seen Ron’s hand erupt in water lilies when Hermione had burned her hand with a potion. During the Hogwarts battle he had seen men and woman covered in flowers from head to toe, fighting like they had nothing to lose.

He just hadn’t registered that it meant he potentially would get something like that too. And now he had and he had no clue what to do.

_I mean, thank you for letting me fucking know that they’re hurt, but might we be so kind and point me in their sodding direction?_

Harry’s hart was racing. When had he turned eighteen? He exited the bathroom hot vapour mingling around his bare legs and looked at the date.

_Oh…_

_Today._

After this concerning realisation he recalled who he had met today.

 _Draco Malfoy_.

Against all odds he had met him. Harry shook his head violently, looking at the deep blue flowers still growing, curling around his hand. The flowers had started at his wrist and went down to his elbow, Harry wondered what caused injuries like this.

Three seconds later with a sinking feeling in his stomach he realised what. Putting his fingers to the places where the stems joined his skin and gently moving down his forearm, he formed the thought.

_Nails._

There was no way Draco was his soulmate, he thought with a twinge of sadness at the back of his throat. But… he had met another person today – that dark-haired girl that almost swept him from his feet. Must have been her.

And she was digging her fingers into her flesh and tearing it apart for some reason. Harry clenched fists in anger and stomped to his bedroom to put on some clothes.

In ten minutes he was out the doors and in twenty more he was back at the street corner he run into the girl on. Straining his memory he recalled which way she had gone and set off to the hopeless quest to find his soulmate.

\----¤----

Harry dragged his tired body upstairs, the flowers had whittled and disappeared without a trace a while ago, his skin now unblemished. Running out on a ghost-chase without having breakfast and a good night’s sleep plus not knowing anything more than a single variable in the girl’s life was pretty dumb, he admitted now. On the other hand, if he could go back in time he would do that all over again, because how could he stay at home, his hand blooming with flowers as his soulmate carved on her own skin?

_Unthinkable._

He grabbed a bowl and made himself porridge, sprinkling it with banana and jam. He dragged his hot body to the table and tore another piece of paper from his notepad, whisking up a message to Hermione. He teleported to the closest owl station and sent the note to her, then he was back in his flat once again.

It was well past midday and it was scorching. Harry was boiling in his own skin and nothing helped, he passed the time wobbling around his flat covered in nothing more than a wet sheet. Next time he will make sure his flat has AC, he swore. _This is unbearable._ But in other news, no more flowers.

Finally he settled on the couch with a vase (so he wouldn’t have to get up all the time) of orange juice with ice and a box of mint-chocolate ice-cream, to watch some movies. The afternoon passed and soon it was the middle of the night, Harry jumped awake, one hand in the almost empty ice-cream box, feet still asleep from sitting cross-legged. It took him a moment to understand why he had woken up. In the changing light of the movie he saw his arm explode with same blue flowers again, soft stems twirling around his veins, encircling his fingers.

“Please, don’t –” his voice broke as the flower rows doubled. “Please….” his voice dissipated in the empty room and he couldn’t go search for her because he had no clue where to start.

He was helpless.

“Please, just stop…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs:  
> First one - Pumped Up Kicks by Foster The People  
> Second one - All Star by Smash Mouth  
> (I hope you knew that though)


	2. No Flowers, Some Muffins

Harry was awake again, he was too tired to go run, but his eyes refused to stay shut for more than an hour at a time. He looked at the clock, the green numbers showed 10:22, but he hadn’t gotten more than 3 hours of sleep in total. Besides the twenty minute exhaustion naps that ended in him waking up screaming his lungs out didn’t really count.

He pulled himself out of the bed with sheer power of will, actually feeling like banging his head against the wall until he would pass out. While making breakfast his eyes were glassy and his mind kept going off course. He decided that tomorrow he would go back to that corner before the sun rises and wait for that girl to run past.

The plan, though tottery, made him feel better, like he had some kind of control.

_In the meantime… Malfoy._

With all the running yesterday, apologizing had completely skipped over Harrys list of things that needed doing.

To Harry’s surprise, he found himself looking in the mirror again and again, adjusting his t-shirt and running his hands through his hair, just to prolong the time before he had to go knock on that door. When he caught himself, Harry stopped stalling at once and walked out of the bathroom, making a mental note that he could make blueberry muffins later as another apology. He really didn’t feel like being hexed when leaving the flat next time.

Crossing the empty landing he hesitated before knocking twice and then stepped back nervously, fiddling the hem of his shirt. From the inside of the flat came a noise, like somebody falling out of a bed, and a grunt, then the doors flew open and a very pale, tired young man looked outside. Draco was wearing the same grey hoody he had the day before, but this time his legs were bare. Harry despite his best intents found himself staring. The blond looked exhausted, his eyes were shadowed by dark rings and his mouth was set in an annoyed scowl.

“What do you want?” he snarled, pulling at his sleeves that already were covering his palms and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I…” Harry tried to remember why he had come. “I apologize. It wasn’t polite of me to slam the doors on you.”

Malfoy looked him up and down and Harry found himself scratching the back of his head, surely not helping his already messy hair.

“Apologies don’t pay bills, or however the muggle saying goes. I accept apologies in calories, otherwise, lose your face from my sight.”

Harry stopped being nervous.

_Prat._

“Fine. Do you have any diet preferences?”

Malfoy watched him with his glistening eyes

“No dead things.”

“That was out of the question.”

“Good,” the blond said walking back into his flat.

“Till later…” Harry tried. Why was he even attempting to be nice to the git?

_Because I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of being angry. Besides seems like he could use a friend._

_A friend?_

_Shut up!_

Harry walked into his flat again and took out the flour. He was going to befriend Draco Malfoy… _apparently_. For that he needed an extreme amount of dark chocolate.

An hour later, the muffins were in the oven and the food for his lunch on the counter. When the muffins were ready, he whisked them out of the oven and not wasting a second, with the hot plate in hand he stalked out of the flat, leaving the doors ajar. Malfoy was surely only used to swanky, upper-class muffins from witch Harry’s cooking stood quite apart. Still, he figured, if nothing could be done about the swankiness, these muffins were best had right out of the oven.

Knocking on Malfoy’s doors, he started to feel his hand getting hot through the cloth he used to shield his hand, so he knocked again more urgently. Harry almost fell in Malfoy’s flat when the blond showed in the crack, his hair tousled to one side and eyes confused.

The morning light, shining through his flat on to his back, made him look like an angel, Harry thought, thankful that Malfoy didn’t read minds.

“Can I come in?” Harry said hoping he would get the permission. “Please… my hand is burning.”

Malfoy finally focused on the black-haired man and opened the door wider. Taking that as an invitation Harry walked past him and slammed the hot plate on Malfoy’s counter. This flat was a mirror of his own only in the room positions. Malfoy had, apparently, taken half of the Manor with him and one third was books, the other was still in boxes.

Harry stood, the hot muffin tray forgotten, watching the silent flat, specks of dust whirling in the beaming sunlight that crashed through the window. Both of the living room’s walls were covered in bookshelves that looked too big for the room, but the it still was bare. A couch was facing the empty room, a small coffee table was beside it and unpacked boxes stashed all the way to the windows on the floor.

“ _Potter!_ ”

Harry jumped at the shriek that came from behind and swivelled, facing a furious blond.

“ _What_ _do you think you’re doing_?” Malfoy hissed, seething with frustration.

Talking about seething, Harry thought, how was Malfoy not hot in that hoody?

“I miscalculated the hotness of the tray,” he said. “But hey, how did you get the morning sun’s side?” he leaned on the counter enjoying the sun on his back. Despite it being horridly warm in his flat, he couldn’t see sun until a late evening. “I asked and the landlord practically sent me three houses further.”

Malfoy didn’t answer his question, he was gripping at his elbows, his leer murderous.

“Potter. Get out of my flat,” Malfoy wasn’t having any of the black-haired man’s tosh.

“Come on… can’t I try one of my muffins?” Harry said, unaffected by the others glances as he had been subjected to them since his first year in Hogwarts. After the war it seemed petty to dig up old arguments.

“ _NO!_ ” Malfoy screamed in Harry’s face. “Get the heck away from me, my flat, my things, my life. Get out.”

Harry felt like he had been slapped, though, this was what he should have expected. The fact that he had discovered a carefully stored away affection for the blond didn’t mean he had done the same. His chest felt tight and stomach shallow.

“Um. Right, sorry.”

Malfoy stepped beside him and pushed Harry with his still with sleeves covered palms.

“Fuck you, scar-head. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what you think I have done, but this is my flat. Get out.”

“I’m sorry, I just… the tray was hot and it was in my hand and I… just thought…” Harry was having trouble making sentences as Malfoy pushed him out of his sunny flat.

“Should have used your _wand_ you utter tosser. Get OUT _._ ”

“Right… my wand,” Harry repeated, “I think I left it in my kitchen.”

Malfoy was silent for a moment, taking a double take of what Potter had just said.

“You did _what_ now?” he hissed his voice menacing, hand reaching in the hoodie’s pocket to get his wand. “You just stalked into a Death Eater’s flat with no wand?”

“You’re not a Death Eater…” Harry said, that being the only part with which he didn’t agree.

Draco stared at him, his hand clenched around his wand, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Everyone save his mother considered him a part of the Voldy’s gang. Draco had been used to being treated like a prince, then all hell crashed down and he was in Azkaban sanity slipping away from his increasingly bony fingertips. After he got out everyone had treated him like a scum, not that he thought they were wrong to do so.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Harry could tell something was happening behind those stormy eyes, but precisely what… no clue. Not knowing what better to do, he extended his hand.

“To new beginnings?” he said, smiling timidly.

Malfoy looked down at Harry’s hand, then back up to his eyes with are-you-FUCKING-serious face.

“No,” the blond said coldly and slammed the doors before the tan man’s nose. Harry blinked surprised and took a step back, watching the doors. The stairwell was quiet, the cool air icing his red cheeks as his heart beat painfully inside his chest.

Harry wanted to listen to music, a very loud music, so he wouldn’t have to hear his own thoughts that were listing all the ways he could have prevented this outcome.

_Stupid._

Harry started dragging his heavy legs to his flat, when a clicking sound made him look back. Malfoy was peering from the doors, only showing half of his face. Harry perked himself up and threw a nonchalant ‘what’ with his head.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_Oh, how pleasantly ruined Potter looks._

Draco couldn’t hold back any longer after Potter gave an attempt to pretend that he wasn’t affected and his smug smile he was hiding behind the door turned in to full out laughter with doubling over and gasping for air. Potter was watching him from _destroyed_ becoming confused. Draco was about to explain and drew a big breath to calm down, but all it took was another look at Potter’s mop to collapse in laughter again. Overwhelmed by the sudden amount of endorphins, the malnourished brain lowered Draco’s guard and let his tongue move before his sanity approved of the words.

“God. Your face is brilliant.”

_Nononononononon. I mean… it is, but that’s NOT what I was saying._

Potter’s eyes widened.

“Is it?”

"I mean 'was'. When I said ‘no’. At that moment your face was priceless. Not is..." his voice faded out and he cleared his throat, shifting and looking down. "Can you wait a moment? I will get some pants and then you can come in."

Potter looked him over, suspiciously reminding Draco of a person who actually _had_ brains in his noggin, but nodded nonetheless. Draco's chest relaxed and he closed the doors calmly. Then he skipped to the couch and cleaned up the blood from yesterday not letting himself reminisce on what had happened. That done he jumped into the bedroom and got his pants out of a drawer. Pulling on the skinny jeans, he noticed that two things: one - it was scorching in the hoody, two - he looked like an anorexic drug addict in a jumper that might as well be a tent.

_Wonderful._

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he opened his wardrobe and started looking through his shirts.

_Nothing transparent._

He finally settled on a dark shirt and prayed that the day and Potter wouldn't get any hotter.

_Ugh, I am pathetic._

His thoughts were interrupted by an irritated knock on the door. One last time glancing at his gloomy reflection, Draco walked to open the doors, taking deep breaths and summoning his patience, self-control and will to be in the wizard community's good graces again.

_Besides, it's not like you really mind Potter's attention._

_Shut the fuck it!_

Brining his fingers to his hair that hadn't been washed for a couple of days (or weeks… _NO_ ) he opened the door. Potter was standing in the landing looking annoyed.

"You're a prat, Malfoy."

"And you're a tosser, but nonetheless you're pretty well off," he retorted. "Besides that's what you get for acting like a moron."

"How is me bringing you _muffins_ moronic?"

"Not that, Scar-brain. You rejecting me when we were eleven," Draco said, hoping that his voice didn't convey how deep exactly that had scarred him.

"Oh," Potter looked like his brain was overloading. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Okay, let's not stand in the stairwell, I recall you so… _politely_ brought something that might be considered remotely related to… _muffins_?"

" _Thanks_. I'm pretty sure they're muffins. And pretty good at that."

"And I'm _pretty_ sure you have a shitty vocabulary," Draco sneered, opening the doors wider, "you can come in. I will give you a brief course in 'Why People Might – no, scratch that, Are Allowed to Hex You If You Barge in Their House without Permission' while we eat."

Draco didn't wait till Potter got his wits in order and followed, you shouldn't appear too keen to invite your (ex?)nemesis in, should you? Besides his mouth was already watering from the scrumptious smell.

Raising eyebrows he realised that he hasn't eaten since before he came here, no wonder his stomach was feeling hallow and strangled.

Potter stared at Draco while he made his way around the unfamiliar surroundings of a kitchen, making the blond feel uneasy as the raven-head was awfully quiet.  Furrowing his brows Draco conjured a simple plate and with a graceful movement of his wand moved the muffins on to it.

Finally Potter opened his mouth to say something.

_Ha. No._

“You can just stay silent, that way it’s easier to pretend that you have brains,” Draco said, taking the plate and moving it to the kitchen table.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter said sitting across from the blond, sun shining in his eyes. “I feel bad for barging into your home –”

“It’s not,” he said, “not my home, I mean.”

“Anyway, I shouldn’t have done that. I understand that things might be difficult.”

“DING, Ding, motherfucker. _Difficult…_ what a nice word, if you ignore that it’s the UNDERSTATEMENT of the century.”

“Haha, yes, I guess…”

“ _Haha?_ Are you laughing that I was in Azkaban for a month and 18 days?” Draco stared intensely at the petrified human opposite him. “Are you laughing because my home is being taken apart for a black magic sweep?” He had to look away from Potter’s guilty expression to keep talking, “Are you laughing because I now have permanently destroyed my arm with an ugly gang tattoo?” he glared at Potter and kept his face straight. “Witch is it?”

“I… At least you’re alive,” Potter said, his voice _pretty_ pathetic.

“If you call it that.” Draco shrugged, “calm down, I was joking.”

“Oh, okay,” Potter shook his head. “Can’t we eat on the couch? Then you might actually get some colour in your face, you look like a drug addict that has lived in the sewers for the last 20ish years.”

“Look who’s talking, your head looks like a crow made a nest and then fled because it smelled so bad.”

“Touché,” Potter gave in, “couch?”

“Fine,” Draco agreed unwillingly, but his tight chest somewhat relaxed when Potter smiled brightly.

_Stupid, stupid, Potter. He has no rights to smile like that. That smile hints that everything might be all right someday. Though, for him… it might already be. Has he found his soulmate?_

They sat on the opposite sides of the couch, Potter stretched his legs and back, like a cat on a wall. Draco looked away.

“Okay, the muffins will get cold. Come on, try one,” Potter urged.

Draco took one, it was warm in his hand, chocolate still liquid on one side.

“If you poisoned it, I will murder you.”

“I didn’t and you couldn’t.”

“You have no clue what I can and can’t,” Draco said, biting in.

It was soft and tasted… _fantastic…_ the chocolate was hot and the muffin itself dissolved on his tongue. _Like eating a piece of heaven. Though, it might be just the fact that he was extremely hungry._

“Erm…” Draco said, pretending to think it over, “I guess it’s fine.”

“That doesn’t sound too good,” Potter was evidently not used to a reaction like that. He took and bit into one as well. “It tastes as good as usual… if you don’t like them, I can make something else…”

“Calm down. Honestly, you _can’t_ expect me to say anything good,” Draco was surprised that Potter was acting so thick.

“So they are good. Okay,” Potter relaxed, “I didn’t sleep well, my brain is kind of slow today.”

“I barely noticed, you always act like your skull is empty.”

“Shut up and eat the stupid muffins.”

Draco found it easier to comply than to argue with the man stretched out on the other side of the couch. Potter looked so at ease, he wasn’t afraid that Draco might curse him. The blond wasn’t used to that feeling, since Azkaban everyone was jumpy and suspicious around him. Why wasn’t Potter?

“Hey, moron, why do you think you can sleep on _my_ couch?” Draco reached and nudged the black-haired man with his leg when he hadn’t said anything for a couple of minutes.

“Ow. Ow, what the fuck,” Potter came about.

Draco was dumbfounded.

“Did you just… _actually_ fell asleep…”

“I might have? Probably the sun…” Potter stretched his arms above his head, arching his back and making his t-shirt roll up revealing his skin. Draco swallowed, looking away.

“You are so stupid I feel like disinfecting the couch.”

“Aii. Why so harsh?”

“You don’t just go around sleeping in Death Eaters’ houses. That’s like asking to be murdered.”

“One – you’re not a Death Eater for fuck sake. Two – what do you care if I get murdered?”

“I don’t. But if that happens in _my_ flat, you can imagine what a shit-storm that will be.”

“Oh, yes. Well, I better go then. Though…”

“What?”

“I don’t know… it’s just been a while since I’ve fallen asleep without tossing and turning for two hours. And it’s so good here… sun.”

“Are you trying to live me out of my flat?”

“Of course, not,” he said, getting his legs down from the coffee table and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes.

“Because it sounded like you did.”

“No, no,” Potter said, resting his head on his palms, eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips. His skin was beaming in the sunlight. “Sorry…”

“Oh, fuck you, Potter,” Draco said. Potter glared at him with one drowsy eye, too content to actually mean business. “Fine, you can sleep on my couch… or whatever.”

“Oi, shit, thanks. You don’t have to.”

“You saved my life, I think I do,” Draco looked out the window.

“You didn’t tell that it was me at the Manor.”

“You defended me in court.”

“Well… now we’re even.”

“Oh, hell no, we aren’t. You sliced up my chest, you we’re an insufferable Golden boy for seven years, and you got away with doing anything you wanted,” Draco counted.

“First – I’m hella sorry. I didn’t know what the spell did, second – oh, shut it Malfoy, that’s not true.”

“Dumbledore made Gryffindor win the cup in the second year, because you had an adventure, Harry, I think something was definitely bias…” Draco almost bit of his own tongue.

“Okay, Dumbledore had his flaws and eccentricities, but you had Snape, he just…” Harry’s brain caught why Draco looked like he just saw a dead dog. “Erm… you can call me Harry, it’s fine… Draco…”

After the last word Potter started laughing, Draco tried to keep his appearances, but it was a lost cause. Three seconds later he was laughing as well. Two grown men laughing like nutters while the sun warmed their sides. Draco felt the best he had in ages.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Draco looked so beautiful. Harry felt a tinge of sadness, despite his face still contracting with laughter. Burying it deeper he laughed again and reached his hand for a muffin.

All were gone but one.

“So you _do_ like them,” he tried to not sound as pleased as he was.

“They’re fine, if you’re starving,” Draco answered.

Harry laughed again.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Can I really nap for a while? It’s okay if you don’t let me. It’s you flat, I have no business here.”

Potter was still talking, though it looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

“As long as you don’t droll all over my floor, I will endure you occupying my couch.”

“Thank you,” Potter said before throwing his legs over the armrest and settling on the couch if he would move a head deal forward he would be lying in Draco’s lap. Draco was frozen, staring at the black-haired man, who was breathing deeply, his eyes closed. The blond jumped when Harry opened his eyes, emeralds shining in his darker face.

“Why you staring?” he mumbled.

“I’m not.”

“Okay, okay,” Potter said in a voice that meant the opposite and petted Draco’s knee in a consoling manner.

The touches felt like electric shocks, Draco shivered and got up, gripping his elbows. When he looked at Potter again the man was asleep.

»»-------------¤-------------««

When Draco fluttered awake, he felt like he was suffocating and his first reflex was to grab for his wand and blow up the thing abstracting his movements. That didn't go as smoothly as his sleepy self had intended and in process he realized that the thing he had doomed to destruction was simply a blanket. 

He didn't remember putting a blanket on himself. 

_Oh Merlin. I fell asleep with Potter on my couch. Oh Salazar the all-powerful. What is my life?_

Draco looked the room over again and now registered that the couch was empty and this was not his blanket. His blanked had burned in a  _tragic_  accident when his stuff was moved by the Aurors. The Ministry officials for you.

This one smelled like sun and a warm dog. But not quite bad enough for him to leave it on the ground when he got up. 

Potter wasn't in the kitchen either, but then he stumbled into the flat levitating two mugs and two plates of steaming potatoes.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, repressing a yawn.

“I noticed you haven’t been after groceries for a while,” he nodded to the empty kitchen cabinets, “so I made you dinner…”

Draco stared at the plates then he looked up and met Potter’s eyes. Didn’t look like he had an alternative motive, but what was the possible reason for him to do this then?

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco said, his voice calm and the usual hostility absent, “but I think you should go now, the sun is on your side now.”

“Oh right,” he shuffled from foot to foot, then sighed. “Drink the hot chocolate while it’s, you know, hot.”

With surprising care the raven-head set down Draco’s plate and mug that had undeniably come from his kitchen.

“Ask, if you need anything,” Potter said.

“Why would I need anything from you?”

“No reason.”

After that he smiled a little at Draco and left, closing the door behind him.

Draco stood there frozen, gripping at the blanket around his shoulders, it was soft – not as nice as his had been, but the sunny smell made up for it. The blond walked over to the plate steaming in the dim room, freeing his hand from under the blanket.

The food smelled deliciously so Draco sat his ass down and ate the plate clean, trying not to bless Potter too much, even just in his head. He was a lousy wizard, but he certainly could cook. _Bastard._

His belly filled, bony shoulders safe beneath the blanket, he curled up on his couch to read. Only occasionally letting his eyes wonder to the place where Potter’s sun-kissed face and his wind-swept hair had been.

_I don’t trust him. I don’t know what he wants._

_But you know what you want._

_Yes. I want to talk to him again. I don’t want to be alone._

When Draco slipped off into the dream world it was already the middle of the night.


	3. Sunflowers

Harry didn’t find the girl, but the flowers hadn’t bloomed again so he forced himself to go about his life, settling things with Ron and Hermione as he had accidentally missed all their birthday congratulations and invites, going to the store and back, other exciting things like that.

He held back from knocking on Draco’s doors as the blond had been clear on the fact that he would like to be left alone. _Has it really been only two days since I talked to him?_ Harry thought climbing the stairs, groceries’ bags in his hands.

Walking up to his landing, he huffed, trapping the bags between the wall and his torso to get his keys out of the pocket. The stubborn pair of apples that had been dying to flee from Harry finally saw the chance. With a noise that to Harry sounded awfully like a laughter they ripped the bag, causing everything to end up on the floor.

“Oh, great,” Harry said irritated, roughly dropping the other bags to the floor as well.

“You’re pathetic,” the sneer came from his behind.

Harry swivelled, facing Malfoy who was sitting down in the corner of the landing against the wall, looking strangely small against the high walls.

“Shut up. Nobody is good at groceries,” Harry said, wondering what was the posh boy doing out here and looking annoyed.

“Whatever…” Draco didn’t press the issue, rolling an apple back in Harry’s direction. Harry noticed that his feet were bare and his hair damp.

Harry bit his cheek and gathered his food, hoping Malfoy would magically mention what he was doing, sitting out in the landing. He didn’t. Once again filled bags in Harry’s hands, he looked at the blond. He was staring off in to the space his mouth set in a scowl.

“An apple for your thoughts,” Harry said.

“The ones you so kindly smeared against the floor? No, thanks.”

“Sorry, princess,” Harry huffed, stalking inside his flat, not bothering to close the door. He slammed the bags on his counter, leaning over the half wall he washed off two apples and went back out.

“Better?” he said, offering one.

“Not much,” Draco said, but took the apple.

Turning it in his hand he avoided looking at Harry.

“You have to honour the deal, or dishonour will fall on you, your family and your cow,” Harry said seriously, sitting down cross-legged in front of the blond.

“I don’t have a cow.”

“I’m not saying you do. It’s from a cartoon.”

Draco looked as lost as they come.

“I don’t know what that means,” he said tiredly.

Draco’s voice was drained, he didn’t even insult Harry and the raven-head started to feel uneasy. His silver eyes refused to meet his, not giving him any clue as to what to say.

“Malfoy… are you… okay?” Harry asked reluctantly.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” he answered snarkily, dissipating Harry’s doubts.

“Okay, I can clearly see you’re not. Spill it,” Harry ordered.

Draco finally met his eyes, anger burning behind the surface like a tornado in an ocean.

“You, golden boy, want to know what’s wrong?” he said, his grimace reminding Harry of pissed of wolves. “Well, where should I start? I can’t sleep because I keep seeing Dementors. I can’t eat because I don’t know shit about cooking or muggles. I can’t go around wizards because, if I don’t get assaulted by your fanatics, old _friends_ send handy curses. Now I can’t even sit in my flat and die in peace, because my fucking _parole officer,_ is fucking some married douche in there. ”

Harry opened his mouth, Draco stopped him, with a hand.

“And do not start fixing my life for me. I don’t need pity…”

“Shut up. I don’t pity you. And I won’t _fix_ your life,” Harry said, earning a surprised look form Malfoy, “I am however going to kill your parole officer and feed you something.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I’m sure. But I’m giving it anyway,” Harry said, getting up. “Come on, sitting here has got to suck.”

“Potter, you can’t expect me to be one of your charity cases.”

“You’re not. You will owe me. Happy?”

“No,” Draco said but got up.

“Do you like pasta?”

“Potter the last time I ate was those stupid muffins. I really _don’t_ care.”

“God. Malfoy. Your need to re-evaluate your priorities.” Harry exclaimed, “I don’t bite. I told you to ask if you needed something.”

They entered Harry’s flat and he grabbed his wand out of one of the groceries bags, dusted of his shoulders, shaking out his arms and jaw. As if bracing for a fight.

“I was doing fine,” Draco said wondering where Harry was hurrying to.

“Fuck you,” Harry was not angry at Malfoy, but he was angry. “No. Sorry… They are in your flat right now?”

Draco nodded.

“Neat. Can you put the water on? I will be right back.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

After that Potter stepped out of his flat again and Apparated, leaving Draco standing in the middle of his flat, at a loss what to do. He resorted to angrily chewing the apple and investigating Potter’s living quarters. Potter’s place was messy. Not the disgusting kind, but messy nonetheless. Draco wondered if a single thing had a proper place.

No more than ten minutes later Potter was back, his face heated, and Draco would have felt sorry for the poor soul that had been on the other end of Potter’s anger if not for the fact that they deserved it. Tossing another apple in Draco’s direction he started cluttering about in his kitchen. When the water was boiling a knock at the door interrupted their passionate argument about whether Draco would be able to eat a whole box of ice-cream before the pasta was ready. The fact that Draco felt the mist of weakness and tiredness lift with every scoop of food, made him confident in himself.

Harry put the knife witch he was using to chop up vegetables down and wiping his hands in a cloth, he went to open the door. He stepped aside, revealing a middle-aged wizard in an official uniform, and a top hat witch he had ripped from his head as soon as the door had opened.

“Mr. Potter, greetings. I offer my greatest apologies…” he started in a sweet voice, but Potter cut him off.

“I don’t need you apologies. You should be apologizing to Malfoy.”

“Of course, of course. My greatest apologies, Mr. Malfoy. This is an outrageous incident and you can be sure that that will not happen again.”

Draco wanted to send him to hell, the Ministry was barely functioning, he wouldn’t be surprised if the woman that had been assigned to check up on him had been practising this for ages. She had been awfully sure of herself when she didn’t even hide her intents, simply ordering Draco to exit and informing him that no one would believe him if he thought to go to the other Aurors.

Her sharp voice sometimes visited him in his dreams, stating his offences, like reading them from a never ending list. Draco had disliked her from the moment she had been assigned to him. She acted like a two-faced chimera. One side – an innocent sweetheart who was a respected Auror, the other sneering condor that wasn’t waiting for the victim to decay but was picking at its flesh with slurs and insults. Of course the second Draco had lost his temper, she had noted it as bad behaviour and threatened him with Azkaban.

The man was different, seemed he might even mean his apology, despite it sounding insincere. Draco made his tired mind focus on the man while he asked questions about other violations the woman had made. Only when Potter was done cooking he saved Draco from the exhausting man. He wanted to know everything, but he was respectful for a change. Must be one of the new ones that were able to climb the Ministry’s career ladder now that Kingsley Shacklebolt was the Minister of Magic.

“Okay, do you mind if we have our lunch now?” Harry asked, still angry despite mostly successfully suppressing it to a dangerous tone of voice.

“Certainly, Mr Potter, I am so sorry that you had to be the witness of such poor Ministry work,” gathering his parchments wizard talked hurriedly. “The new parole officer will be assigned by the end of the day.  As you are an unofficial member of the Aurors, may I ask that you keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy till then? It would be a great help, of course, if that’s too inconvenient…”

“Malfoy is not an inconvenience and I was going to do that anyway. Have a great day.”

The wizard nodded opening his mouth again but then thought better of it and exited Potters flat wishing them a good meal. Draco’s belly was filled with the strangest feeling, despite the hunger he felt warm and content. _Stupid Potter. Saying nice things about me._

Potter visibly relaxed and put two steaming plates on the table.

“I hate them, fucking leeches. This one wasn’t as bad, but the ones I had to deal with in Ministry…” he shuddered.

“They still want you as the face of Ministry?” Draco asked moving his plate closer and inhaling the divine smell.

“Oh yes. Even after I sodded the ‘social pressure’ when they wrote that stupid article, they can’t take a hint,” Potter said, sitting down opposite Draco.

After Draco had gotten out of Azkaban, he had made sure to be up to date, that included another big Potter scandal. After he had turned down a dozen wizards that had with various approaches tried to persuade him to be the face of Ministry, he had gotten a front page piece in the Daily Prophet. Somebody had written an article praising the saviour of the wizarding world and publicly asking him to accept the honour of being the face of the Ministry. The rumours were that the ‘fan mail’ had gotten so overwhelming, Harry had moved warding from all human interaction.

“Politicians,” Draco sneered. “Aren’t you friends with the Minister?”

“I know him. I told him it isn’t gonna happen, but he doesn’t have control over every individual. Besides I’m not at the top of his priorities list. Thankfully.”

His stomach giving him a shove, Draco tasted the pasta, realising that he would gladly marry Potter if he would cook for him.

_Oi. Shit._

He choked on his own thoughts, his cheeks heating up.

“Malfoy, you ok?” Potter asked, getting up. “Have some water.”

“Thanks, I’m fine,” Draco said regaining his breath. Water cooled him down and he could return to the sacred pasta in front of him. Only after he had eaten clean two plates he remembered his manners. “It’s very good. You’re good at cooking.”

“Haha, I gathered as much, but Malfoy… was that a compliment?” Harry said in a mock shock.

“Sod off,” Malfoy murmured, stuffing his mouth to hide a smile.

After they had finished their lunch and Draco felt pleasantly full, they settled on the couch that Potter had to dig out of a mountain of blankets, books, and other muggle stuff. It was the middle of summer. _Blankets?_

“You know if you just kept your place in order your life would be much easier,” Draco pointed out, but Potter didn’t seem too keen on the idea. Instead he Acio-ed what was left of the ice-cream Draco had eaten before and started snacking.

“So gallant, Potter.”

To that Potter answered by showing a spoonful of ice-cream in to Draco’s face, who couldn’t help but flinch, freezing on the spot.

“Mhm-sorry,” Potter mumbled, his mouth full and smoothed his moves, calmly extending the hand with the spoon so that Draco could reach it. Draco calmed his heart beat, darning his stupid flinching to hell and let Harry – because you can’t call the sod who’s feeding you ice-cream by his surname – feed him some ice-cream. The raven-head was gentle, his eyes tracing Draco’s face.

Draco felt venerable under Harry’s gaze but at the same time he was safe. The blond looked away, clearing his throat.

_That did NOT feel platonic._

_He is just being the wonder boy we all know. He wouldn’t want me._

“What was it you said… about dishonouring cows… what’s that about?” he asked.

They spent a nice afternoon watching cartoons and movies, Draco was surprised by how inventive the muggles were, plus watching Harry acting like a happy puppy was a Merlin’s gift.

They did it again the next evening and the next. Draco felt happy and the thoughts that made him upset could be blocked out by Harry’s smile. Maybe that wasn’t healthy, but – _fuck_ – it worked.

One evening – night – Harry suggested watching a scary movie. Forty minutes in Draco wanted to kick Harry’s smug smirk in, the nerve-less bastard hadn’t jumped once, while Draco was so on edge he kept glancing behind him only to see an empty room.

In the tensest moment Harry paused the film and got up.

“I feel like some popcorn, want some?”

“Potter!” Draco took a moment to collect himself. “Warn me before pausing. And yes!”

Harry laughed. Draco wanted to make him laugh again, that was weird. His laugh was annoying, wasn’t it? It always had been. _Well, then he wasn’t laughing with you, was he?_

“Want anything else?”

“I’m fine,” Draco said, leaning back and relaxing his neck. The movies were some weird business, he got so invested even though they weren’t real. A popping noise made him turn on the couch and look at Potter reaching in a cupboard above his head. He was attractive as hell, Draco couldn’t deny the fact as much as that would make everything easier.

“What are you doing?” the blond asked, trying to distract his thoughts.

“I put the bowls up there. For some rea – shit!” he clutched his forearm grunting.

“Are you…” Draco’s voice died as he felt his forearm prickle. His stomach dropping to the ground he looked down. A line of sunflowers had appeared on his skin.

_Harry is my soulmate._

Draco got up, making sure his arm wasn’t visible. His face was completely devoid of emotion. Harry was holding his forearm with the shallow scratch and quietly muttering as he shoved it under the tap. Harry watched as Draco walked past him and Draco didn’t need to see his face to know how it changed from slightly annoyed and amused about himself to confused.

“Hey, where are you going?” Harry asked his voice unsure, washing his arm in the sink, the bloody slit a perfect match for the flower row on Draco’s hand. Draco cramped his fist behind his back steeled his façade.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Draco opened his mouth, he was pale – as in even more deadly pale than usual – he met Harry’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he took a deep breath and pressed his lips together looking away.

“Will you come back tomorrow…?”

Draco didn’t answer. He closed the doors behind him and was gone. Gone with his perfect lips and his gloomy sense of humour that made Harry crazy. What had made him leave? He had been fine just one minute ago.

 Harry put a bandage on the wound from the nail that he had so clumsily grazed.

He was 87% sure Draco liked him… at least sometimes.

They had been having a great time for the last days. At least Harry had. After Draco had set fire to the pan Harry had lent him, while making a toast, Harry had insisted on teaching Draco how to cook. The blond would sleep at his and in the morning Harry would knock on his door with food in his arms and they would cook together – well, Draco was mostly watching Harry - sunlight making Harry even happier than he already was, which was _extremely_. Part of Harry’s kitchenware relocated itself to Draco’s flat and Harry stopped making sure he wouldn’t forget anything, he could just take it the next day. Or week.

Lunch and dinner they would eat at Harry’s. The amount of movies they had already watched was pretty impressive, but considering Draco had been deprived of such opportunity before, it was understandable.

When Draco wasn’t being rude as hell (3.42% of the time) he was _so_ sweet Harry had an overwhelming urge to punch himself in the face. Harry didn’t feel as hopeless when he screamed himself awake at night, he knew morning would come and Draco would be there, irritated that it was hot and that Ministry was filled with morons.

Walking across the landing Harry still couldn’t wrap his head around what the fuck he had done to cause such an abrupt exit.

_Maybe he realised I wasn’t his soulmate so he lost interest. But I don’t care. Sometimes soulmates are platonic and people can love each other without being ‘official’ soulmates._

_But he is a wizard. Maybe it’s different if you grew up around it being important._

_Maybe I insulted him somehow?_

_By making popcorn?_

_I DON’T know._

To be fair, Draco had gotten offended once because Harry _hadn’t_ made pancakes for breakfast after the blonde had said that they were plain the previous day. But this felt different. Draco looked much more guarded, the mask Harry was already gotten used to being _not_ there, had been back and on.

“Draco!” he called pounding on the door. “What the hell did I do?”

Nobody answered.

Harry stopped assaulting the door, weighing his options. Kick in the door or keep talking to the unresponsive wood. Before he could decide, two words came from the inside of Draco’s flat.

“Leave, Harry.”

Harry was dumbfounded.

“I hope you have a bloody great explanation,” Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose, he swallowed his frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Please, talk to me.”

Draco was quiet. Maybe he just wanted to be alone right now. Harry sighed.

“I will make something fantastic for breakfast, okay? So you stop being a mute sod and forgive me,” Harry said trying to joke, but the corners of his mouth wouldn’t curl up despite his best wishes.

“Goodnight,” he wished retreating in his own flat.

Harry didn’t finish watching the movie, it didn’t feel right, he stayed up googling what food said ‘sorry’ in any occasion.

He fell asleep on his bed, curled up around the blanked that Draco had taken liking to. The nightmares had him sweating and trashing and awake every two hours so he moved to his couch, blanket around his shoulders. Drifting off, his mind twisted and swirled around various reasons Draco could be angry with him. He jolted awake.

_Maybe I forgot his birthday. That would be horrible._

Looking at the time he decided that it was right about now he would have to get up and take a shower. His hair still damp he started cooking, surpassing all his previous breakfasts.

_It's Draco’s fault. He didn’t say what the matter was, I presume I forgot his birthday. I think that’s fair._

Two hours later Harry opened the doors to his flat at the same time as Draco closed his. He looked at Harry briefly, questioning the contents of the plate in the raven-head’s hands. With an arrogant raise of eyebrows he dusted off his robe.

“Don’t bother. I’m going out.”

“Where to?”

“Why do you care?”

Harry glared at the other.

“Diagonally,” he said before Disapparating.

Harry sighed. Draco was _seriously_ pissed.

Furious the man walked back in to his flat, slamming the door behind him. Draco never even mentioned the _outside_ world when they were together, didn’t seem like he missed it, but now he was going there all dressed up. Did he get invited somewhere?

Harry slammed the plate down and gloomily stared at the cake he had made. It was double chocolate and berries with in his best writing ‘Draco is now a year closer to his death’ written on top. The last word was pressed tightly together because he didn’t plan it before, but ‘Draco’ had turned out pretty. He wasn’t even sure Draco could have read it from the other side of the landing.

_That sodding, arrogant sod, he didn’t even look at me._

Harry walked around the half wall, and got a spoon out of a drawer.

_Well, then… he is not getting any cake, from me._

Harry took the cake he had spent all morning making for _Draco_ , and slumped down on the couch to watch something dramatic. The cake was good and he was not upset. _No._

When he had anger-eaten a whole half of his cake, he felt the flowers again.

“NO, no, came on. No.”

_Okay, two possibilities. One – the girl is getting hurt again. Unlikely, as Hermione had so UNAnnoyedly explained that it had to be proper meeting, both people had to at least see each other. Two – Draco is getting hurt._

Harry was already out of his couch, shoes in his hand, wand in his teeth, he Disapparated while pulling his shoes on. Taking advantage of his known face he broke through to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Five minutes later Harry had arranged Draco’s new parole officer being located. With a quick thanks he was gone, appearing on a crowded street. He pushed his way through the wizards and witches entering the café that the Auror in question should be at. Therefore also Draco. Harry didn’t see the blond, but everyone saw Harry, he was, to be fair, covered in blue flowers.

“Where is Kurt Likenshtill?” he called, a burly man stood up.

“What –”

“Where is Draco Malfoy? You’re his parole officer, you are supposed to be with him, if he’s around wizards, aren’t you?”

“He is not far. Calm down.”

“ _Don’t tell me to calm down_. You, inadequate frog. You are supposed to be guarding him.”

“Wait… those flowers?”

“YES.”

“Shit…” the man took dropped some money on the table. “He went to the nearby bookstore,” he said to Harry before turning to excuse himself from his date.

Harry was too angry to even care that he didn’t have backup. Two minutes later he entered the quiet store.

“Draco?!”

The store was empty that much as clear, it was tiny. Harry glared at the man standing behind the counter.

“Mr. Potter, how may I –”

“Listen to me. Where is Draco Malfoy?”

The man looked like he was about to say that he didn’t know who that was. Harry saved him the trouble.

“He is blond, his skin is fair and flawless, his eyes are the storm, he is this high,” he said reaching bit above his own head, “and he is my soulmate, and…” his voice was trembling so hard he couldn’t speak, he threw his head back and took a breath.

“The young sir was here, but he left with a couple of friends.”

“ _Friends_ ,” Harry snarled. “Witch way did they go?”

Harry was running, looking for a place where a _couple of utterly dead men walking_ would go to beat up a person. People where everywhere, he ignored their stares. They were either caused by the fact that he was Harry Potter or flowers were blooming, on his arms, on his head, showing their heads through the neck of his shirt. _Fucking everywhere_.

Harry stopped, his head felt light and panicked, this was a quiet place, but thinking wouldn’t help. Diagonally is huge. They could have Apparated. He kicked a fallen can of soda, didn’t feel better. He punched the wall behind him grazing his knuckles, it cleared his mind a bit.

Next thing he knew, a door further in to the empty alley was blasted open and a man flew out, hitting the opposite wall his body limp. Harry ran in the direction of the noises of struggle, entering the room he saw two shabby men standing over Draco, who was lying face up his body half in the air his body convulsing with pain.

“Dirty Death Eater, you will know better than to attack us soon enough…”

Harry saw red. He knocked out one of the men with a spell, the other wasn’t so lucky. He managed to knock Harry’s wand out of his hands. The raven-haired fury put him out of his misery with bare arms. Almost. Dropping the couple of cornflower heads he had clenched in his palm, he fell to his knees beside Draco.

“Draco, talk to me. Draco –”

“Sodding hell…” Draco coughed. “Didn’t you take your sweet time?”

 Harry laughed, despite his best judgement. Draco was alive and still acting like an arse.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco whose face was bloody, but seeing it made Harry the happiest man on Earth. His laugh, as shaky as it was, dissipated.

“Draco, thank Merlin, thank the gods and thank….” His voice broke again, his body was shaking.

“Merlin. Harry, I’m fine,” Draco said, hugging Harry back. “You should be thanking yourself if I’m being fair…”

“What?” Harry asked burying his face deeper in to Draco’s neck.

“In the middle of the _barbaric_ torture I was forced to endure, my knuckles bloomed sunflowers…” Draco nudged at Harry’s shoulder. “I found it possible then to grab a wand and blast that moron out the doors.” Draco relaxed slightly in Harry’s arms, he didn’t feel as bad as he ought to. “I presume your flower crown is because of me?”

Harry snorted. “Who else? Ferret…”

“Potter!” Draco tried to shove Harry, but he winced in pain. “Okay. I will kill you later.”

“I made you a cake…” Harry said his voice quiet, eyes glued to the floor. “I got so scared, you were going to die.”

“Look at me, scar-head,” Draco said placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I am fine.”

For that he earned a shove from Harry.

“You are not fine. The fact that I look like your personal flower garden proves that.”

“Okay, yes. I am as far from fine as it gets, but all it  - ”

Next thing Harry felt was floor against his head and Draco’s voice.

“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Draco was furious and exhilarated, but furious.

Who were these lower class wizards dressed in crappy robes to lay a finger on him?

He had made some shitty fucking decisions, that’s true. But the only person that had the right to punish him was – make a wild guess – Draco Malfoy. So these miserable excuses for wizards could take their beaten arses and get lost. Draco looked at the wizard in front of him at the point of Harry’s wand in Draco’s hands, and scrunched up his nose in distaste.

“You’re disgusting,” he said to the Mr Sweaty-Palms-McGregor. The squealing man was passed out after one spell and Draco could turn his attention back to Harry who was looking at him smiling. Blue flowers around his arms and head and torso…

When he thought about it, Draco felt _terrible_ , his hair was surely ruined, his hands were bleeding and his head spinning.

“I need a healing spell,” he said. “Or a hundred.”

Harry’s smile was gone, he lied Draco down on his lap and took his wand back, Draco closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was back at Harry’s apartment and the sun was setting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to comment your opinion :)


	4. Promise

Draco’s torso was numb and throat dry, but otherwise he felt much better he had thought he would. He felt wonderfully rested, judging from the amount of sun that was pouring through the window, he had slept through the day. It dawned on him that he was in Harry’s bedroom. What’s more, he was in Harry’s bed. The sunny dog smell was distinct. Supressing a grin Draco tried not to think of the dirty socks pile that had been placed on bed’s covers when he had seen it previously. What mattered was that he was home.

As interesting the blank wall before him was Draco turned to see the rest of the room. First thing he saw was Harry. He was sprawled on his desk that was placed against the window, last rays of sun illuminated his head. Draco watched him contently until Harry stirred.

“Potter!”

Harry jumped up from the chair sending it hurling backwards, his eyes disoriented looking for the danger, a pencil in his hand pointing to the door. Then he turned to the window still aiming to some unseen danger.

“I’m not sleeping,” he blurted, rubbing one eye, finally settling his attention on Draco. He lowered the pencil, throwing it back on the table while the blond touched the left side of his face, soft sunflowers under his fingers.

“Potter, I was out for what? About 10 hours? And you managed to get a bruise the size of your brain…” Draco sat up, trying not to appear worried. _Who the hell beats up Harry Potter?_

“It’s nothing,” Harry murmured, poking his blue eye slightly.

“Tell me what happened,” Draco ordered, motioning to the free place on the bed. The raven-head sat down, stretching his back and neck that was surely stiff from sleeping on the table.

“The healers that your _parole officer_ got were morons… one of them anyway, and he said something about that it was what you deserved. That you shouldn’t have even be free in the first place.” Harry sighed heavily. “Then they recognised me and shut up, healed you.”

Draco waited, but Harry only shook his head and smiled at Draco.

“That explains nothing. Please, for me, gather your few brain cells and explain how you getting a green eye happened,” Draco got up, for now biting down complaints about his sore spots. “And also why you haven’t healed it.”

“Well, when I explained what had happened the Auror who came to arrest those simpletons, he treated me like a child and basically said that you put me under a spell…”

Draco rolled his eyes, trust Harry to get in to trouble where there was none.

“… He said he would take you in as well,” Harry bit out. “I was already a mess because you hadn’t come to and then he came saying you would have to wake up to Dementors and I – well. Let’s say it was very hard not to punch him, but I didn’t. I guess his reflexes –”

“What?” the blond was baffled, he took Harry’s face in hands, turning the man’s face to himself. “You didn’t even touch him and he –”

“I didn’t say I didn’t touch him. I grabbed him by the collar,” Harry said his eyes wide, sparkling at Draco.

“Still… you dumb sod.” Draco shook his head adding another person to his mental vendetta list. “Where is my wand?” he asked after a couple of sweeps around him, one hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Here,” Harry said leaning back, but not out of Draco’s touch, grabbing the wand from the table.

“Thank you,” Draco said and moved his hands to Harry’s neck, doing his best not to smirk as the wildly-haired man breathed in roughly. “As much as I would love to walk around with a proclamation of our connection on my face, maybe you mind looking like you like picking fights.”

“You don’t mind?” Harry said quietly, his eyes cast down to his fidgeting fingers.

“Of course not,” Draco smiled a little. “Who would mind to be the soulmate of the one and only Harry Potter?”

“Is that all I am to you?” Harry asked, his eyes were boring in to Draco’s and blond couldn’t quite understand why Harry was so upset.

“Harry, no,” Draco shook his head meeting Harry’s eyes hoping they conveyed his sincerity. “You’re my scar-head.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he tentatively landed his palm on Draco’s knee, smile playing at his lips. The touch made all Draco’s insides jump with joy.

“Yours, am I?” Harry asked wiggling an eyebrow.

“If you wish.” Draco nodded. “But I do come with a sort of a baggage.”

Harry pressed the hand on Draco’s knee and smiled.

“Me too.”

Draco smiled bitterly. “A Death Eater and the Saviour – bit different though.”

“You’re not a Death Eater. You were a dumb child that’s all,” Harry said, running a thumb along Draco’s flawless cheekbone.

“I was dumb? Potter, did you even see yourself and your little gang? Because in comparison…” Draco had already forgotten his self-loathing, throwing himself to excuse his younger self. After a list of his accomplishments he lifted his wand again. “Now, when I have flawlessly proven that I am as far from dumb as Weasley is from rich, let me fix you up.”

Harry grabbed his hand that was holding the wand and looked at him seriously.

“Ron is my friend.”

“I know, I know… I was just joking,” Draco recoiled, looking away from Harry for a second. The raven-head’s hand felt pleasant on his neck, the touch didn’t cause him to become more alert as most of the hands on him had done before. He could be at ease and someone was there with him.

Harry smiled at him and his hand ruffled Draco’s silky hair. They were sitting grinning like fools, hands on each other and they had all their lives in front of them. Draco found it so easy to pack away all his worries and darkness, to lose himself in green emerald eyes and black curls of messy hair.

»»-------------¤-------------««

As his body was clear of doom-promising flowers, Harry felt the happiness tug at his mouth, he became only happier with each second Draco was here. The blond narrowed his eyes, watching his magic heal Harry’s bruise. Lowering his wand he met Harry’s eyes who was watching the beautiful face of the person he once thought heartless. Now he was leaning more towards tactless.

Harry smiled.

“You must be hungry, you slept a long time…”

Draco flashed a content smile and nuzzled Harry’s neck.

“Famished,” he said falling back in to the messy blankets, pulling Harry with him. “And also all my parts hurt. Those Medwitches really were morons.”

“Oh yeah, they told me to give you this when you woke up,” Harry said grabbing a flask from the table, one hand still tangled with Draco’s. The blond raised one eyebrow arching it in an inquisitive way. It made Harry all soft and fuzzy on the inside as he passed the flask.

Draco took it, whirling the clear contents in to a mini-hurricane above his face with one hand and drawing circles with his thumb with the other on Harry’s palm. The raven-haired man was bewitched by Draco’s movements, his free expression as he got up to drink the vial dry.

“My suspicions were right, it’s a pain-potion,” he said licking his lips, Harry smiled.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“How about some spaghetti?”

“Okay.”

Harry said to himself that he should move, go and get the water going, but his body had better plans – stay here with Draco. Answering Draco’s questioning glance Harry felt his lips form a smile.

“Want to come sit on the couch?”

“If it’s not littered with popcorn, then yes,” Draco said, squeezing Harry’s hand.

“It’s not,” Harry reassured, throwing an unsure glance to the living room.

“I know you’re lying.”

“I’m really not,” Harry looked to the door again. “Let me go check.”

Draco laughed, letting go of his hand. Harry bolted to his couch, wand in his hand, three seconds later he had swept it clean with a spell.

“Air and the couch is clear, come, maybe you will learn how to cook, your majesty,” Harry teased, leaning on the doorframe.

“Okay, okay,” Draco obliged. Despite his experience with pretending to be fine, his stance wavered after the first step causing him to lean on the table, Harry was by his elbow the next instant, carefully balancing him.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Draco settled on the couch thankful for the potion that dulled his aches, Harry after making sure Draco was okay, skipped off to make some masterpiece in the kitchen. Lulled by Harry’s happy humming Draco let his mind wonder. Maybe he shouldn’t have, the thoughts that arose weren’t the type you wanted in your head. His stomach twisted.

He sat up wrapping his hands around his knees, hiding his mouth in the crook of his elbow, eyes following the raven-head’s dance around the kitchen.

 _I can’t possibly deserve him_. He could have him, because Harry didn’t seem to mind for now, but for how long? Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy – _soulmates_. It sounded so bittersweet, Draco felt a battle ensue in his heart. It wasn’t pleasant – the fights with himself. He always ended up losing. Also winning, but that never caused him heartache so it didn’t matter.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry arched an eyebrow at him, smiling.

“Thinking.” Draco didn’t get in to details.

“What about?” Harry asked, looking down.

Draco hesitated casting his eyes away from Harry.

“Me…” he swallowed a lump in his throat. Or tried to, it didn’t go away. “How I don’t deserve you.”

Harry stayed silent, Draco forced himself to look at the man who had all the tools to finish him off and he was surprised by the fiery eyes that he met. The intensity radiating off the raven-head was so powerful Draco saw how Voldemort never had a chance. In those eyes he saw Harry’s opinion about that statement:

 _BULLCRAP_.

Draco’s face twitched as throwing whatever had been in his hands on the counter Harry walked to the couch. His fingers landed on Draco’s hand softly.

“What do I need to do?” he asked.

Draco barely heard the words over the pulsing of his heart.

“To achieve what?”

“So you stop being a self-loathing wuss.”

Draco furrowed his brows, shoving Harry slightly.

“I am not. I’m just being rational. There is no point to… anything, if in the end you walk off to start a perfect family with some…” he couldn’t finish.

“Draco…” Harry said. “I’ve never in my life felt more right with anyone else.”

Draco saw it in his emerald-grass eyes, he was speaking from his heart.

“Not to be a wuss, huh?” Draco asked, smiling tentatively, his heart now beating unevenly for whole another reason.

“I doubt you will manage, but we could try,” Harry said.

“Potter!”

Harry laughed and before Draco could shove the messy-haired ass to the floor where he belonged, Harry’s lips were on his. Draco was so stunned he almost cried out, but the soft lips on his own stirred him in to the rhythm. He tangled his fingers in to the locks of Harr’s wild hair, letting the dark side of his mind go take a vacation for an indefinite amount of time.

Harry pulled back his eyes searching Draco’s.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked turning red. “I meant to ask. Not assault you…”

Draco rolled his eyes, pulling the raven-head closer once again, crashing their mouths together like there was no tomorrow. Harry smiled against Draco’s lips, causing the blond to grin as well. The kissing-fest was paused for a minute that they spent wrestling, Draco pulling Harry over the back of the couch, landing him on top.

They snuggled up in each other’s arms safe from any dark forces that might want to intrude. Let them try and they will see the wrath of two soulmates who want to be left at peace.

»»-------------¤-------------««

In middle of yet another kiss that sent butterflies surging to the sky in Harry’s stomach, Draco pulled back abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“How long have you had your flowers bloom for me?” Draco asked watching Harry intensely.

Suspecting why the question was being asked Harry sighed.

“Since the day we met in the landing.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Harry reassured. “Just, please… talk to me if you ever feel the need to do anything like that again. Please…”

Draco’s voice was barely audible.

“Okay.”

“Promise?” Harry asked, hoping that he wasn’t too out of line.

Draco smiled at him.

“Promise.”

Harry beamed, kissing the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus the Christ… this fanfic was completely unplanned and surprisingly turned out okay. I just felt realllllly inspired by the said Tumblr post. If you want to beta, please sign the fuck up and we can polish this rush-decision ;)
> 
> If you want some more chapters just harass me politely and feel free to suggest any ideas, I like the AU idea and it’s not quite fair that only Draco got beaten up.
> 
> But, yeah… thank you for reading and leave a review.
> 
> Rasa


	5. Better Muffins

When Harry entered his flat after visiting the Weasleys, he wanted nothing more than to rest for a couple of minutes, but apparently Draco had another idea.

“Harry! Weren’t you supposed to be back later?”

“If I had stayed any longer…” Harry noticed that Draco was in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“I am baking!” Draco announced, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Are you?” Harry smiled, suspiciously looking over the place that now looked like a battleground.

“Yes, but it’s not ready yet. Go wait on the couch!” Draco was beaming as he shooed him away. All Harry found himself able to do was smile and do as told. He had wanted to rest after all.

“Will you burn my flat down?”

“It was _one_ time, Harry! Stop, reminding me!”

Harry laughed, lying down on the couch. Before he could make himself comfortable, he had to get a spoon out from in between the couch pillows.

“Why is there a spoon here?” Harry dug deeper. “And a fork?”

“What! Oh..” Draco trotted from the kitchen a bowl in his hands, hoisted on his hip while he stirred the… Harry presumed it was dough. “I have no idea…”

“Well, put it all in the sink at least, I will do the dishes later,” Harry threw the spoon at Draco, who ducked, with an offended face. But his coordination was on point – not a drop of the brew was spilt.

Harry shook his head and lied back on the now mine-free couch, humming a song that Ron had been hollering while he had been over. Draco soon joined him singing the words perfectly in his quiet perfectly-in-tune voice, Harry’s broad smile disrupted his own attempts at keeping his hum accurate and he relaxed listening to the angel’s voice that was his soulmate.

He didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep until Draco shouted. Harry was up from the couch in two seconds.

“I only said _it’s ready_ , no need to be so jumpy,” Draco smirked.

“Really?” Harry said, rubbing his eyes. “Well then, Merlin knows, I can’t resist your cooking.”

“I _haven’t_ _cooked_ for you before,” Draco insisted.

“No, but that toast…”

“JUST _come_ to the kitchen before I murder you!”

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed, entering the kitchen that had once upon a time been in order.

He sat down in the only chair that wasn’t covered in flour and looked at Draco. The blond pushed clutter that was in front of Harry to the other side of the table, in place putting a plate covered with a cloth that had one burnt corner.

“Are you ready?” Draco asked.

“As I ever will be,” Harry affirmed, preparing to fake-like _whatever_ would be revealed.

As it turned out he needn’t have worried, when Draco took the cover off with flourish, Harry saw nine muffins which looked edible. Even tasty… they smelled like chocolate.

“Wow!” Harry exclaimed.

“You didn’t think I would be bad at this, did you?” Draco snorted, crossing his arms. “I am good at everything I do.”

“Of course, you are,” Harry looked at the blond. “Even a damn fine ferret.”

“OH MY Merlin, I am considering not to show you the best bit…”

“No, no, come on…” Harry pleaded.

“Fine,” Draco gave in. He took his wand from the spatula holder and pointed to the muffins. Harry also focused on the plate, for a moment nothing happened, then white frosting appeared.

I LOVE YOU

Harry gaped at the letters. Then he gaped at Draco who was standing there in the middle of the destroyed room, looking no less than perfect. Then his brain remembered movement and he got up kissing Draco on his lips.

The blond kissed him back, burying his hands in Harry’s hair.

“You’re supposed to say something…” Draco said ripping their lips apart for a second.

“I… Of course, I love you. I was going to… haha wait.”

Harry stepped back, but his eyes caught on the muffins again and he kissed Draco, not knowing how to deal with the fluttering inside sensation he was experiencing. Then he quickly walked out of the kitchen to his room and dug out the papers, from where he had stuffed them in his table.

“I was going to propose we move in properly, we can conjoin the flats… if you want.” Harry showed Draco the papers from the guy who owned the building. While standing so close it only seemed normal that Draco would wrap his hands around him, which he did.

“Yes, oh, Merlin, I was so stressed,” Draco said burying his head in Harry’s neck.

Harry let the papers fall to the floor, hugging the blond tightly.

“I love you…” Harry felt his heart clench with happiness, it was so overwhelming he barely heard Draco saying it back.

“Harry?! Why are you crying?”

That called Harry back to the reality, he wiped his eyes.

“I just don’t think anyone has ever said that to me…”

“What? Surely your friends…”

“Of course, I know they do… they just haven’t said it, I don’t think.”

“Ohh… Harry…” Draco looked at Harry with the most determined look. “I will say it for all your mishaps of friends and relatives.”

“My friends are not mishaps…”

“But relatives ARE. I still want to curse them you know.”

“I love you,” Harry said, instead of once again explaining that he didn’t care about the Dursleys anymore.

“I love you more, I made you muffins,” Draco beamed pointing to the table.

“I have made you food since I discovered you can’t cook,” Harry pointed out. Draco only shrugged, smiling and resting his forehead against Harry’s.

They stayed like that for a while until Draco bit Harry’s lip and started complaining that Harry thought the muffins would taste bad. Harry’s arguments that he didn’t want to destroy them did nothing, so they agreed to take a picture and then taste them.

Harry ran to find the camera somebody had given him, but when he returned he found Draco leaning on the table, a half-eaten muffin in his hand. Harry was quick to snap a picture before Draco noticed him, catching the blond red-handed. Harry laughed while Draco pouted.

“I couldn’t let you eat something that’s terrible…” he chewed a bit more. “They are… okay.”

Harry tried one of his own, deciding that a picture with Draco _and_ the muffins was better than the muffins alone anyways. He was surprised, but the muffins really were okay. Bit dry, but the chocolate made up for it.

“Draco, they are _wonderful._ ”

“Thank you!” Draco smiled, kissing Harry and getting chocolate all over his cheek.

Harry wiped his cheek, throwing a glare at Draco, but the blond was looking at the plate. He had eaten the I, Harry the L, OVE YOU and two with a cornflower and a sunflower were still there. Harry wondered how he had gotten so lucky.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Draco was trying to keep himself from pouncing at Harry, the _perfect, wonderful Harry that I am in love with._

_The git said that my muffins were wonderful, he wants to move in with me and he said that he loves me! He said that!_

It had taken him a day of nerve wrecking stress to get himself to go through with his plan, but he had done it. Then it had taken Draco an hour to draw the flowers on the muffins, but he had done that too. Now he waited until the euphoria would go away, but it didn’t. He was buzzing on the inside.

“Hey, you okay?” Harry looked at him concerned, placing his hand on Draco’s.

“I love you!” Draco exclaimed, collapsing on the surface of the table. “I don’t think I have gotten enough love as a child either, I feel… fucking COSMIC!”

Harry laughed. “Cosmic is a good term, I like it.”

\----¤----

When all but the muffins with flowers had been eaten, Draco got up.

“Well, I have business now…”

“Didn’t you forget something?” Harry asked.

Draco looked confused then he bent down and kissed Harry rendering him mute just for enough time for the blond to reach the door.

“Draco! I mean the mess _you_ made.”

“I love you too!” Draco called already comfortable in Harry’s bed with a book.

He could hear Harry sighing all the way to the bedroom and his smile only grew wider as he sank in to their bed, enjoying the fact that Harry was going to have to clean it all up. A quick ten minutes later Harry jumped in to the bed, straddling the blond who was pretending to be reading.

Harry flung the book out of Draco’s hands, pining them above his head.

“I love you to the fucking sky…” he said, pausing to land a kiss on Draco’s lips. “And the sky is fucking endless, you know?”

Draco stared at the man who was on top of him and his heart was refusing to beat correctly, it kept jumping, pumping all the blood to Draco’s face. He got free from Harry’s palms and curled his hands around his neck, breathing: “Merlin…” and pulling him down for a kiss.

“My name is Harry, you prat!” Harry exclaimed with such jealousy that Draco started laughing. Harry smiled smugly and kissed the laughing blond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllo!  
> Hope you like, I had a blast writing it!  
> Leave review, pretty please ^^  
> Thank you for reading,  
> Rasa


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